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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27106432">Little Match Richard</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZwitterZwitter/pseuds/ZwitterZwitter'>ZwitterZwitter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rammstein</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Du Riechst So Gut, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Prostitution, Murder, Not Really Character Death, Other, Richard dies but not really</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:14:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,609</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27106432</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZwitterZwitter/pseuds/ZwitterZwitter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically the little match girl but with a little twisted twist.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Little Match Richard</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Er Riecht So Gut...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Richard huddled in an alley between two houses, shivering and barefoot. He crossed his legs in the darkness, as close to the rest of his body as possible, and with both hands shielded the small flame the candle provided for him from the scalding wind. </p><p>The storm roared, the snow danced wildly around him, and he closed his eyes attempting to focus on the warmth on his palms as much as possible while the rest of his body was hit with the frigid temperatures of the storm</p><p>Earlier in the day he attempted knocking on the local butcher's door without any luck. He had asked around for him, and even waited a few hours outside his door until the stiffness of his limbs reminded him he needed to stay active in order to not freeze. Richard continued to look around for a place to stay without any luck whatsoever. </p><p>Till, the butcher, was kind to him. A big man that not only provided the town with food, he helped everyone in any way possible. To Richard, he had given a place to sleep several times and invited him for dinner without asking for anything in return, but had suddenly disappeared for the day. Today. When Richard needed him the most, but he didn't blame him. These were hard times for everyone. </p><p>There were talks of a storm coming, and he dedicated his day to search for anything to cover himself with when it arrived. He looked everywhere for things that might help him withstand what would most likely be the heaviest snowfall of the year, and the strongest winter storm in years, and while gathering whatever he thought helpful looked into his pockets to decide what to buy in preparation for it. </p><p>He had looked at the miserable amount of money on his palm before swallowing hard and sighing, trying to decide between a loaf of bread and a candle, and finally, glancing over at a man loading enough wood to light an entire street on his carriage, decided over the candle and a couple of matchsticks to keep himself warm.</p><p>Now more than ever Richard hated people. His own race. Humans were just despicable to him. All his life people had treated him worse than trash and at first, when he was a child, he didnt know why and had often wondered what he and his mother had done for people to treat them the way they did. </p><p>He once had a job. After his mother died. Perhaps not decent, but a job was a job nonetheless. In the darkest parts of the small town Richard sucked off rich men and pleased wealthy women for shelter and a piece of bread. It was a win win situation, and Richard literally got off and quieted his insecurities in the most pleasurable way possible... Until one bitch was caught by her husband and to save herself claimed she had not asked for his services, he was beaten and thrown out to the streets. Of course he argued he had done no such thing. Yes, he had fucked her, and yes it had been rough enough to leave a bruise on her hip, but he had never touched anyone without consent in any way. He begged, even on his knees, to have a chance to tell his version of the story. To be heard at least once.…. But who would listen to a damn hooker? At least he wasn't killed. Again, he had Till to thank for that. Till had convinced the town that being thrown out and badly beaten was enough of a punishment, and Richard by no means deserved to be stoned to death as was intended. Till had saved his life, but sadly, couldn't make it any better. </p><p>Now he wandered the streets, often eating leftovers around the market, trying his best to not bother others around him and be as invisible as he could. He worked as often as he could helping home and business owners with that they needed in order to survive, moving furniture, delivering letters and packages, loading carriages, tending to the horses, cleaning windows. Anything he could to have a piece of bread or a sip of water. Sleeping in dark alleys and park benches.</p><p>He sat with his eyes closed, in the middle of the storm with nowhere to go. Three burnt matchsticks almost buried in snow next to him and a struggling candle flickering around between his shielding palms. His throat ached from the cold air while he only hoped that if he was to die tonight it would be quick already and he didn’t have to withstand more of the nightmare he was experiencing; but then the warmth between his fingers was gone. </p><p>He opened his eyes to watch the flame of his candle become smaller and smaller until it was gone. A knot tied in his throat and cold tears formed in his eyes while reaching down to rub his toes with his slightly warmer hands. </p><p>He looked up at the cloudy sky and wrapped his arms around himself with clattering teeth. He now became consumed with a sense of despondency of dying alone. In the morning people would come out from their warm beds to find his frozen body most likely partially covered in snow.... or would they even care to find him? What would they do with his remains? The thought only depressed him further.</p><p>He heard soft steps over to one side and slowly moved his head to look at whatever approached him. He scoffed at the sight of a big black wolf slowly walking in his direction, thinking it would attack and eat him. Maybe it would end his suffering faster than the weather would… part of him actually hoped it would, but when it finally reached him, the animal nosed at him and whined in a gentle way. </p><p>The animal, as big and threatening as it looked, laid down next to him, placing its big head on Richard's lap. Its fur was rough, but Richard immediately felt the warmth of its body on his feet. He sighed and reached to pet the animal's head with chattering teeth "Y-yeah, I'm cold t-too… are you l-lost?"</p><p>The wolf whined, moving its ears back gently when Richard passed his hand close to them "I-its ok...No one likes m-me either…. A-at least now you found some f-food, huh"</p><p>The wolf's greenish eyes looked up at him, its ears moving back up to full attention. Richard could swear it was a questioning look, or perhaps he was hallucinating. Perhaps the wolf wasn't even there at all.</p><p>"T-thank you..." Richard swallowed and leaned back on the cold brick wall behind him, closing his eyes once more and just waiting for the inevitable to happen without stopping the gentle scratching on the animal's head with stiff fingers. The despondency replaced with a calm acceptance. At least he wasn't alone anymore.</p><p>They stayed like that for a while. Richard shivering, the wolf's breath hot against his leg, its neck warm against his feet. The wind was the only thing he heard for a while before he started to fall asleep, his breathing becoming slower as he shivered less and less, his body simply unable to do so anymore, and he accepted his fate.</p><p> Finally. He was going to die and be at peace. He wasn't alone, even if it meant the wolf would eat him eventually. He wasn't dying alone. He felt content with that. </p><p>Next thing he knew he snapped his eyes open and was screaming in pain. A sharp cry raw and painful as his weak body struggled under the animal's jaws, the head he pet just a few seconds ago now shook vigorously sending Richard flying to the side, away from the wall. His skin ripping open, muscles being pierced and torn apart.</p><p>Richard cried louder when the animal's jaw closed even tighter between his shoulder and neck. The pain was unbearable, and the loud SNAP! of a bone was heard along with the wolf's growls, sending a second and even stronger wave of pain through through his body</p><p>He felt how the wolf stopped, it stared at him for a second and then proceeded by licking his wound instead of ripping his arm off completely, leaving him to wonder why. Why was this happening? He struggled to move his fingers and watched the snow around him turn a nasty red color. Now he was surely going to die, but why didnt he deserve even his last wish?–A quick and painless death</p><p>Whimpering and letting his head fall back on the snow he blinked a couple times as he struggled to breathe, hoping it was over but soon feeling a burning sensation that spread from the wound, through his chest, down to the rest of his body. He felt like he was burning, horrible flames eating him from the inside out. A deadly poison running though his veins and making his blood feel like acid.</p><p>He could not scream, not even shiver anymore anymore, just a painful struggle. His nerve endings on fire. With every struggling breath, agonizing pain.</p><p> The last thing he saw was the wolf's eyes staring at him, a red shine in them as the animal stood on two legs before coming closer to him while morphing into a muscular body and a familiar face.<br/>
</p><p>Till?!</p><p> Another whimper left his throat </p><p> "You'll be ok, Richard. Everything will be better now" He heard the butcher's voice say gently, reasuringly. His voice muffled by Richard's own moans and groans of agony. Only then, everything went dark.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, its not like they were born as werewolves, right? Someone must've turned them.</p><p>I don't know why making Richard suffer in these stories is so easy. I feel bad for him every time I do it.<br/>I am terribly sorry, Herr Kruspe. Forgive my twisted imagination. </p><p>Remember, I do not intent to change anyone's view on the Characters' real counterparts. These two guys in the story are just characters and this story is just that. A twisted thing that came from my crooked mind.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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